The Heart of a Wolf
by Singing Fire
Summary: Margaery, coming north with her betrothed, Aegon and the Queen Daenerys, finds herself drawn to the chilly Lord of Winterfell, Robb Stark. As she comes to know the de-throned King in the North, she finds underneath the ice and furs, is a heart of a true northern wolf. Now she fights to make that heart hers, and to exchange her cloak not for red and black, but for white and grey.
1. Chapter 1

**Alright, a brief summary on the history before this story.**

**During the war of five kings, Daenerys lands in King's Landing with Aegon and they take over the realm. Robb, still alive, goes to treat with them under a flag of truth about the North's freedom. In an act of betrayal, Daenerys and Aegon capture Robb and kill his guard and Jeyne. They burn down Winterfell and threaten to do the same to the rest of the north unless he surrendered his crown. Robb does so, like his ancestor before him. He returns to the north under a vow that if he would raise arms against the Targaryen dynasty again, they will wipe out House Stark and destroy the north in dragon fire.**

**Alright, so that's that. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own GOT or song of ice and fire**

Margaery first saw Winterfell in a summer snow.

The grey castle, still blackened from dragon fire was like something from a song or story. Thick white flakes fell, catching in her hair and swirling in the wind. The ground was already blanketed under the white snow, and she thought it wouldn't look quite right without the snow around it.

Aegon smiled at her, strained and tense as their relationship, if you could call it that. He may be her betrothed, but there was little love. She didn't miss the way he watched Daenerys, and the way the queen watched her Hand. It seemed they inherited the Targaryen tradition of wedding blood to blood. But Daenerys refused to take Aegon as her king for the realm. She would take a husband that the realm would find a strong ruler in.

Margaery pulled the thick black cloak tight around her shoulders. Black and red, for her future house if Daenerys had anything to say about it. She would rather not wed the boy, beautiful as he was. His heart was set on his aunt, and Margaery knew better than to try and create something with the silver prince

Loras smiled at her, his cloak as white as the snow around them. He wore the Kingsguard colours still, though now renamed the Queenguard on Daenerys' order. He stuck his tongue out her playfully. She smirked back and shook her head. Her brother had been depressed after Renly's mysterious death, and it was gratifying to see him finally out of the dark place he had been in.

They approached Winterfell on horse, Margaery beside her betrothed. Daenerys rode at the front, on a gift from her Dothraki husband, what she called the silver. Her immense golden crown sat on her head and she carried it like a queen.

Margaery came through the gate, the soaring grey towers high over her head. She saw men in grey and white and furs watching them with cold eyes. When the queen took the King in the North, the people had responded with fury, especially to the body of his queen found murdered. They had not done anything wrong, but there was no respect, no love, only a cold, frosty hatred running deep in the north that even the land responded to the fury.

She didn't understand when a man of only seven and ten stepped out, making his way as if to greet them. He was certainly handsome, in a rugged way, not like Aegon's fine features. His dark red brown hair was cut short and clean, but loose curls were already falling into his eyes. His eyes were like ice, cold and unyielding and she could almost imagine him with a crown in his hair, standing before a court with his frosty gaze. His face was smooth shaven, revealing his jawline. Margaery watched the man approached, but he didn't bow to the queen.

"Daenerys." He said curtly, greeting her like an unannounced friend or an enemy with a sword at his throat. "Aegon."

Daenerys looked down on the man from her lofty position on her horse.

"It is custom to bow to your queen Stark." She said as cold as she could, but her annoyance was piqued by his quiet stubbornness.

"And you are in my lands, surrounded by my men and without my hospitality you would be sleeping in the snow with the wolves. I would demand more respect Queen Daenerys." He said, his voice hard.

Margaery watched as Daenerys sniffed and said "Lord Stark, my thanks for welcoming us into your home."

Margaery kept her surprise off her face like a politician. Lord Stark was her age, and he had led an army to war and became a king. He certainly looked the part of a king, some traitorous part of her mind whispered to her.

The newly introduced Lord Stark nodded and helped her dismount, all icy politeness that had a bitter tinge to it. He was treating her better than many lords newly uncrowned by a girl younger than themselves. She knew her father wouldn't have let her into Highgarden until her dragons were circling overhead like Dornish vultures.

"Lord Stark, may you lead us inside? I am not one for standing in the cold." Daenerys said, and Lord Stark took her arm and led her inside. She noticed with a shiver that all the men were heavily armed, and their eyes watched Daenerys as if half tempted to shoot her with a crossbow.

She turned to Aegon and said "I don't trust those Stark men. They look half ready to shoot us till our blood stains the snow."  
Aegon laughed as if she told some clever jape and said "With Drogon outside, they would not dare attempt anything. This is all they can do, be undyingly rude and bitter under their courtesies. Though Lord Stark might wish death upon us, if he even tries Winterfell will burn."

His violet eyes lit at Drogon's mention, a faint mad light at the image of a burning castle brought to his Targaryen mind. She shivered again and Aegon said "Roses are not made for winter. I think it folly that you wished to come north."

Margaery withheld a retort. She may be a rose, but her words were growing strong. She was not weak. She merely said "I would never get another chance to see the north, and these people intrigue me. I thought, why not seize the opportunity."

Aegon smiled at her and patted her hand.

"I must speak to Daenerys. You may find a servant to escort you to your rooms."

She smiled at Aegon and watched him walk towards his aunt, the frosty Lord Stark oddly missing from her side.

"My lady."

The deep male voice behind her made her start, turn around to find the Lord of Stark behind her, watching her with a touch of winter in his eyes. He blinked once and asked "Would you allow me to escort you to your rooms? Your betrothed seems to have vanished."

Margaery managed to nod, tilting her head back far to look the man in his icy blue eyes. He really was quite tall, and she saw a hint of a red scar on his neck.

"Of course my lord." She said, and he took her arm. He led her up the winding stairs, and she almost felt like she was awash with heat.

"How many fires must you keep lit to make the castle warm?" she asked lightly, the silence heavy and bothersome.

Lord Stark seemed surprised that she would speak to him in almost a friendly manner. "There are hot springs underneath Winterfell. They are piped through the walls and heat the castle."

Her free hand drifted to the stone wall to her right and it was slightly warm to the touch. She smiled and said "Your ancestors were very wise to think of this. Winter would be almost unbearably cold without the heat."

Lord Stark raised one eyebrow, as if thinking that this was some ploy to lower the wall he put around himself.

"You have never been this far north, have you my lady?" he asked. She smiled and said "Never farther then King's Landing until we started north. Winterfell is marvelous though." She felt herself relaxing around Lord Stark, even though only talking with him for a moment. It was welcome, having to keep her guard up around King's Landing and Aegon. Court and her betrothed were stressful, and she had to watch every word she said around both.

Lord Stark stopped suddenly and she realized they had reached her rooms.

He unlaced his arm from hers and said "I hope you enjoy your stay in Winterfell, my lady."

He turned and left, and his furs shifted around his neck, to reveal more of the puckered red wound twining around his neck. It was more wound then scar, recent with not enough time to heal itself and fade.

She stepped into her rooms and was relieved to see her handmaidens and her trunks already there.

"Lady Margaery, there you are. We have to prepare for the feast, we have much to do." Her head maid, an older woman named Jeyne said. She smelled her hair and shook her head.

"You stink of horse. I told you it would have been better if you had ridden in the wheelhouse. Now you must bath, come on." Jeyne tugged on her hand and pulled her towards the tub.

"Alerie, pick one of the warmer dresses for tonight. This northern air is far colder than I would have thought." She called back at one of her other handmaidens.

Alerie held up a fine river blue color made of warm wool and with fine gold embroidery.

"This one, it will suit you in the north." Alerie said. Margaery trusted her, since she was originally from the north herself.

Margaery nodded her head, and found her thoughts had drifting back to the Lord of Stark. Her mind brought back images it caught, his blue, blue eyes, his ruddy hair, the smell of pine and smoke and something musky that clung to him and made her feel strangely dizzy.

She stopped her thoughts and focused on the coming feast. Lord Stark was not what a betrothed woman should be thinking about, but she couldn't seem to stop the thoughts that flashed by.

And deep inside her, her heart skipped a beat a little as she smiled to herself.

She walked into the great hall on Aegon's arm, her blue skirts swirling around her ankles. She smiled at her betrothed, but it didn't escape her notice that his eyes drifted to Daenerys.

She looked like a vision, clad in pale violet silk and with bands of gold circling her arms. Her skin was creamy soft, her silver hair braided back away from her face and falling down her back like a river of silver.

Aegon abandoned her as soon as was appropriate and kissed his aunt's hand.

"You look like the Maiden in flesh." He said deeply, and Daenerys smiled at him, more tenderly than at any save her dragons. Margaery felt oddly alone until she heard his voice again.

"Lady Tyrell." Lord Stark nodded to her, and she couldn't help but notice the red scar was more on his back, trailing up to his neck.

"Lord Stark." She greeted, curtsying. Lord Stark nodded in greeting and said "You look lovely this evening."

She felt the heat rising to her cheeks. Aegon had said the same thing as he had brought her inside, but Lord Stark's comment made her feel warm deep in the pit of her stomach.

"Thank you my lord. You seems you have lost your furs?"

He looked smaller without the furs around his shoulders, more human almost. He had also shed the chain mail he had worn under his furs, as if he were lowering his guard.

He nodded and took his seat, next to Daenerys and two seats away from her. Between them was Aegon, who's full attention was on Daenerys, and she did not turn his attentions away. She looked down at her plate, some sort of wild animal in heavy spices, warm and dark and smelling amazing. Her stomach gave an appreciative sound and the food almost reached her mouth when there was the sound of a scraping chair beside her.

A young girl in a dress of grey and white, her hair fiery red sat down and saw her looking.

"I'm sorry my lady if I disturbed you." She looked like she would rather be standing anywhere but there. She had seen Sansa Stark around King's Landing before Daenerys and Aegon had come in with their fleet of ships, full of men to take the capital. She had been shy, reserved, speaking to no one unless spoken to first or asked a direct question. She had also been Joffrey Baratheon's first betrothed, before he casted her aside and he took Margaery as his betrothed.

"No, it is quite alright Lady Sansa. Please, Lord Aegon seems occupied at the moment, so let us talk. How are you, I haven't seen you since King's Landing."

And with good reason, Margaery thought to herself. Sansa looked terrified to be put on the spot, but Margaery swooped in and said "I would be rather happy if it was me, to be gone from there. I'm betrothed to Lord Aegon now, so I must remain in the capital with him. I rather wish I was home in Highgarden sometimes though."

Sansa said nothing, sipping at her wine and Margaery continued "I did rather enjoy seeing them mount Joffrey Baratheon's head on a spike. He made a good head spike."

There it was, what Margaery had been hoping for. A small smile, like a shy deer flitted across her face, and something akin to amusement flickered in her eyes like a candle flame.

Margaery said nothing for a moment, chewing the meat she didn't remember bringing to her mouth.

"I rather wish that I had come north earlier now. It is a beautiful country."

Sansa nodded and looked down at her plate and said quietly "It is. I used to dislike the north, when I was younger. I thought it was too cold and barren."

Margaery laughed and said "Well, it is cold, that is why they call it the north. Pray tell me, are you betrothed at the moment?"

Sansa shook her head, some strands of red hair falling loose from her northern braid. Margaery smiled and said "I think that if you were willing to come south, my brother Willas would adore you. He is going to be Lord of Highgarden, and he is very handsome."

Sansa blushed prettily, a light pink flush rising to her cheeks. Margaery sipped at her wine and she felt the hour flow past like a fast moving river. Sansa blossomed like a rose under gentle conversation and she saw a hint of the girl she had been before Joffrey had beat her down. Then, someone started up the music and Aegon was up. Margaery turned to her betrothed, but he was already leading Daenerys down from the dais to the floor and they spun around, two beautiful silver blurs across the floor as they twirled and whirled to the fast northern beat.

Sansa noticed her staring at Aegon and she said "Lord Targaryen seems very close with the queen."

Margaery nodded and remembered the night she had caught him in only a robe, sneaking towards the queen's chambers. He hadn't seen her, but she had seen him slip inside and close the door. Margaery had fled back to her room, her thoughts of finding a servant for water long forgotten.

"Closer than you would think Lady Sansa." Margaery said dryly.

Sansa stood and said "You have never danced to a northern song. It would be a shame for you to miss out on it." She went off to the right, and Margaery turned to see her talking with her brother, Lord Robb. They spoke in hushed tones, and Margaery couldn't hear what was being said.

Lord Stark approached her and said "My lady, may I ask you for a dance."

Margaery rose from her chair and said "Of course Lord Stark."

He led her to the floor, and one hand took her left, the other falling to her waist. His hands were much larger then hers, and rough with sword callouses. They stepped close, chests almost touching and they stepped back a half step. He spun her around in a mess of skirts and then his hand was on the small of her back.

"I have not seen Sansa like this in a long time." He said softly, Margaery almost not catching his words. "She is so quiet and withdrawn nowadays."

She half turned and saw the young Stark with Loras, where he had asked her to dance and her face was as red as her hair she was blushing.

"She is a young girl, she should be able to act like one." Margaery said. Lord Stark smiled softly, almost sadly and said "We have been trying to coax her to dance and to speak again, but she is so quiet. I think she just needed another young woman with her."

Margaery smiled and japed "It is nothing on my part, but rather Loras. He is said to have a way with young women or the realm."

His lips pulled back in another half-smile, smaller this time, but his eyes showed his amusement.

"You are a fine dancer my lady." He said quietly, spinning her once more. She watched him out of the corner of her eye and she saw Daenerys and Aegon watching her.

"Well, I've been to many feasts and such. You are also a fine dancer my lord, tell me, have you danced with many young women?"

He spun her once, his face contemplative. "Not many young women are seen here in the north." He said finally.

Margaery smiled and said "No northern girl has caught your eye yet? My, I would have thought the ladies would be swarming this castle for a chance at the young lord of Winterfell?"

She felt a burst of pride at the slight red growing from his neck and he said simply "None have come seeking the ladyship of Winterfell. I have been too busy with reconciling the north to worry about courting ladies."

Margaery nodded and said "Yes, the north must be in a tizzy about the vow of no raising arms."

Lord Stark frowned and said "They are denied the right to fight for their freedom and independence, and if they do fight they will be forced to watch their homes burn."

Margaery realized she had touched on a bad subject.

She bowed her head and said "I'm sorry my lord, if I offended you in some way."

The music ended and she dropped her hands, however reluctantly, but Lord Stark's hand stopped her. A finger gently lifted her head to look him in the eye and said "It is alright, I reacted defensively. Come, another dance for my blunder."

But Aegon was there, and he cut in.

"Sorry Lord Stark, but might I dance with my betrothed?" he asked, almost in challenge. Lord Stark frowned and said "Very well Aegon." His mask of cold courtesy had slipped back into place as soon as the silver prince had stepped close. He nodded to Margaery and said "my lady, I thank you for the dance my lady."

He turned away and went to where Loras was kissing Sansa's hand in farewell, and she was pink in the face. Lord Stark took her hand and led her to the floor, but she felt his eyes flick onto her throughout the dance with Aegon.

"You seemed close with Lord Stark Margaery." Aegon said, no emotion in his voice. Margaery had no clue what she had done wrong.

"You were dancing with Her Grace, and Lord Stark kindly offered me a dance. I accepted of course, I couldn't deny a lord in his own keep."

Aegon nodded and said "You seemed to be getting very close though, and you were smiling much."

She still didn't understand why he was so upset. He knew that she knew that he preferred Daenerys to any woman he could get as the Hand of the Queen. Yet he got defensive if she danced with one lord.

One handsome, kind, high lord that had treated her as more than a little girl, and like a lady and a woman.

"Lord Stark is a very fine dancer, and I enjoyed myself. It is a feast my lord, it's to be enjoyed." She said. Aegon spun her around, but there wasn't a thrill like before.

This song was a short one, and the dancing ended quickly. The awkwardness was cut short, and Margaery was escorted back to the dais. She saw Lord Robb had taken up dancing with the Queen, and everyone could sense the tension that surrounded them, crackling like a thundercloud. Lord Stark looked like his face was carved from stone, and Daenerys like she was trying to act cool and confident, but her anger and annoyance with the chill manner of Lord Stark was apparent in her frown.

The rest of the feast passed with her dancing with every other man in the hall, but she felt eyes of icy blue watching her spin from one man's arms to another. She could also keep her eyes on Lord Stark as he spun ladies around the hall. But she dare not look for more than a minute, for as much as she could feel Lord Stark's eyes, she could also see Aegon watching her.

And it was unwise to anger a dragon.

**Well, I wanted to do one of these for a while, but I couldn't come up with an idea. So, hope you enjoyed, tell me what you thought.**


	2. Chapter 2

**To anonymous reviewer. I am taking your request to heart. Thanks to you and Carnacki23, Lawsy89, Yeardley, guest, and everyone else who reviewed or favorited.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own GOT or song of ice and fire**

Margaery awoke the next morning with a loud thumping echoing in her skull. She sat up quickly and fell back as the thumping escalated, leaving no room for coherent thought.

"Did someone have too much wine last night?" Jeyne stood over her, smiled at her superiorly and Margaery said "I didn't think I had that much wine last night."

Jeyne shook her head and said "Lord Aegon asked to see you as soon as you were awake."

Margaery frowned. Aegon had been displeased with something, something to do with Lord Stark. She had no idea what she had done wrong. And it was never good when Aegon asked to see her.

"Best not to keep my betrothed waiting. Come Jeyne, find me a dress for the day."

The dress was soft, butter yellow wool, for even with the hot springs and fires, there was still a chill in the air, a cold breeze down her spine. She took advantage of the warm dresses she brought.

"Do you wish for me to call for an escort?" Jeyne asked as she straightened the skirt. Margaery said "No, I will be fine Jeyne." She smiled reassuringly and stepped outside her rooms.

She stood and looked down either hallway. Both looked the same, and neither looked helpful. She had no idea where Aegon would be.

Choosing randomly, she set off left, telling herself she would stumble on a servant to direct her or on Aegon himself.

Soon though, it became apparent that Winterfell was an impossible to navigate labyrinth of hallways and stairways and rooms. No one passed to tell her where to go, telling her she was nowhere near Aegon's rooms. He always had an abundance of servants tending to his ever need.

Finally, standing alone in the stone halls, she hated to admit it to herself but she was lost.

She looked down both hallways, and saw sunlight filtering from one end. She went to the light and found herself in the last place she expected in the frozen, wintery north.

The forest was beautiful, haunting and there was an undercurrent of deep power that thrummed under her feet. She stepped on the warm dirt, red leaves rustling over her head and touched the bone white trunk of one of the trees. It felt like she was somewhere else entirely, and her curiosity wouldn't let her turn back.

She walked through the forest, listening to the sounds of leaves and wind and rippling water from somewhere near the heart of the forest. It was peaceful. She had been surrounded by nothing but people and talking and stone for near on a year since she entered King's Landing, then when they did march north there were more people and still little freedom, even away from the city. The clean air was a relief, and she sighed.

Then, something growled at her from the shadows of the trees.

She stiffened, and turned slowly to face the beast. It was a direwolf, near three quarters her height and it stalked forward and growled again.

She backed into a tree, pressing her spine into the bone white tree trunk. The red leaves that fell around her suddenly looked like bloody hands spiraling down in the bitter autumn wind. The direwolf approached her and sniffed at her skirts, and his lip curled back to reveal massive, pearly teeth sharp as daggers.

Her hands were shaking and her heart was racing with fear. The beast looked at her with yellow eyes to intelligent to be wild and it hadn't attacked her yet. She closed her eyes and waited for its claws and teeth to sink into her.

Then she heard a voice.

"Grey Wind, where are you?" the voice asked, and Margaery opened her mouth to call for help. A cold nose touched her hand and she jumped, startled. The direwolf nudged her open, shaking hand. It licked her fingers, and she took her other hand and gently patted the top of its head.

"Grey Wind, what are you doing?" the voice asked. Margaery looked up and her face flushed as she saw Lord Stark, wearing a fur as dark red as his hair around his shoulders. He raised an eyebrow at her and asked "My lady?"

She realized her hand was still on the direwolf, and she lifted it off quickly. The wolf padded to Lord Stark's side and he rubbed the top of his head, but the wolf's yellow eyes didn't leave her.

Her courtesies returned to her and she curtsied quickly.

"I'm sorry if I disturbed my lord at prayer." She said "I was looking for Lord Aegon and I found the godswood, and I couldn't stop myself from entering."

Picking up her skirts, her face burning with heat from under the gaze of his blue eyes, she said "Excuse me my lord, but Lord Aegon will be looking for me."

She turned to leave and cursed herself internally. Of course, she finds something close to peace and then she had to disturb Lord Stark in what was most likely the only time he would have in solitude away from Daenerys and Aegon.

Then she felt a hand on her wrist and she was face to chest with Lord Stark.

"If my lady would like, I would escort you to Aegon's chambers." He said, and Margaery tore her eyes from his chest to look him in the eye.

The questioning look in his eyes brought his request back to mind and she said "Of course my lord, I would be honored."

Lord Stark took her arm and looped it through his and they left the godswood behind.

The silence was again thick and bothersome, and some part deep in her mind wanted her to speak with him, to say something to break the silence that sat between them like a castle wall. But some nervousness had possessed her and her voice was lost.

Lord Stark broke the silence first. "Why would my lady wish to see a godswood? Would you not keep the Faith?"

Margaery forced her eyes to remain on the floor and she said "I do keep the Faith, but I have never seen a true godswood. It left me curious. And it was so peaceful."

She dared to glance up, and saw Lord Stark watching her curiously, and his eyes went down as she met them.

"The godswood is the only place that it is quiet, it seems." Lord Stark said quietly, and Margaery nodded.

The silence reined again, but less awkward. It was a comfortable silence. Lord Stark seemed like the sort of man who didn't waste words on silly things, and it was quite endearing.

"I'm sorry if I disturbed you my lord. I was curious, I did not know that you were there." She said, and the now familiar flush was creeping up her neck.

Lord Stark was silent for a moment before saying "I was not praying, I was, trying to escape the castle for a moment. The queen can be…" he floundered for the correct word, but Margaery understood what he was trying to say.

"Yes, she is." She said, and was rewarded with a soft smile from Lord Stark that made her heart flutter in a way it should not.

The direwolf walked on the other side of Lord Stark, sniffing at stone and watching them with yellow eyes that seemed to follow her every movement.

"Your direwolf seems very loyal." She said finally. Lord Stark glanced at his wolf and said "I've had Grey Wind since before I became Lord. He is a better guard then many men, but he seems to warm to you my lady."

The direwolf in question had returned to his lord's side and was sniffing at her hand again, his rough tongue licking at her fingers. She resisted the urge to pull her fingers from the direwolf's teeth and said "He is quite fearsome looking. But if Targaryens can have dragons, Starks can have direwolves."

Lord Stark smiled and said "We are here my lady."

She released his hand, albeit reluctantly and said "I shall see you later Lord Stark?"

He nodded and pulled a single, pale blue rose from under his cloak.

"My sister loves winter roses." He said in a soft voice as she took the rose in her fingers. "But Tyrells seem to like roses as well. A winter rose for a summer rose."

She gently touched the velvety petals of the rose, and looked up to find Lord Stark vanished.

She stood outside the door for a moment, struggling to gather her thoughts. She tucked the perfect rose inside a pocket in her cloak and turned to the door, and she remembered that she was supposed to see Lord Aegon.

Pushing back the hood of her cloak, she opened the door and stepped inside.

**CLIFFIE!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own GOT or song of ice and fire**

Aegon was sitting before a roaring fire, his fingers knitted together.

"Lady Margaery, how is the delicate rose?" he asked, sitting straighter in his chair.

The perfect rose hidden underneath her cloak suddenly burnt like fire, as if trying to reach out to Aegon. She shifted her cloak, hiding the winter rose deeper in her cloak and retorted "As well as a Dornish dragon, Lord Aegon."

He smirked at her and gestured to the chair opposite to him. 'Take a seat my lady, I was just speaking with my aunt."

She did not need to be told. Aegon's hair was mussed, his jerkin unlaced at the top and his eyes were alive with desire and an inner fire. The room was tainted with the smell of dragon smoke and something almost too sweet, a sure sign that Daenerys had been. But she highly doubted that there had been speaking.

"North men at the feast last night said that the dragon's rose was trying to seduce their Young Wolf. Everyone saw you, and they think that you will try to slip between his sheets and become the second Lady Stark."

Margaery felt her face flush brilliant Targaryen red and she said heatedly "Does a Tyrell's honor stand for nothing? I would never dishonor you or Lord Stark in such a way, ever."

And she spoke the truth. Whatever affections Aegon harbored for his aunt were no concern of hers, and she would never dishonor Lord Stark in any way.

Aegon nodded and said "I know these things to be true, but if we say them outright, the people will doubt your word and mine. Best to stay away from Lord Stark, snip these rumors at the stem."

Margaery felt her heart aching queerly at the thought of not seeing Lord Stark again for the remainder of their month long visit. But she nodded her head and stood.

"If you will excuse me Lord Aegon, I will retire to my rooms for the time." She said. Aegon waved her aside like some mild nuisance. She wondered distantly if he wanted to save her honor or his own from the rumors flying around the castle.

She curtsied and left, and as soon as the door closed behind her she swept off, and she spotted a servant in grey and white.

"Where would my chambers be?" she asked. The servant, a youth of maybe twenty some years frowned at the Targaryen cloak around her shoulders, as if they were a symbol of one of the seven hells.

"Down the hall, turn left, first door on your right, you're at the end of the hall." He said, sweeping away before she could say her thanks. She turned and followed his directions, relieved to find her chambers behind one what felt like hundreds of doors.

She stripped off the heavy black cloak, pulling the delicate rose from the folds of black velvet. It looked fragile and she sniffed at it, the sweet smell making her smile to herself.

"Did you get that from Lord Aegon?"  
She spun around quickly, stashing the rose behind her in her flurry of movements. Her maid, Jeyne, was watching her with a wide smile.

"It was about time he treats you like a woman," she said, not even waiting for confirmation "You're not some little princess to follow after him like a well-trained pet."

Margaery opened her mouth, about to protest, but closed it silently. Jeyne had unwittingly gave her an exit and she took it to her full advantage.

She pulled the perfect little winter rose, from deep in the godswood at the heart of Winterfell and said "It is beautiful, isn't it?"

Jeyne smiled at her and said "Come on, you can't stay in your room all day. Why is your dress dirty?"

She glanced down at her gown, and saw smudges of dirt from her walk through the godswood.

"Oh, I guess it was dirty before." She said, the lie slipping easily from her tongue. She prayed to the seven that her face betrayed no emotion.

Jeyne nodded slowly and said "Come on, I wish to walk through Winterfell. I haven't been north of King's Landing before, and this will likely be the last time."

Margaery enjoyed walking through Winterfell with Jeyne. She never dulled her tongue and told wonderfully funny stories about Flea Bottom where she grew up. She also had an uncanny sense of direction around the castle. It was almost like she had grown up here, playing in the passages and halls and known the stone corridors all her life.

"Are you sure you haven't been here before?" she asked again. Jeyne smiled and said "Yes, I am sure. I would have remembered the cold weather."

Margaery smiled and heard the sound of ringing metal and male voices.

"We must be approaching the yard." She said. She pulled Jeyne along with her and they entered the yard.

What surprised her most was the fact that Lord Stark was there, in leather armor and duelling with a man all in black with dulled swords. The man in black had curly dark hair and solemn grey eyes and it all spoke of a man of north blood.

The man in black slashed at Lord Stark's arm, and a nasty cut across his left arm when he just barely blocked the blade from taking his whole arm off. Lord Stark took the wound in stride, though the blood started to creep down his sleeve.

Margaery couldn't tear her eyes from the sight of Lord Stark fighting, his muscles flowing like liquid steel, with a strength that surprised her. They moved like dancers together, coming close enough to be inches apart and locked at the hilt, then breaking away and blades flashing quick as lightning.

The man in black seemed to be holding his own fairly well, and he handled the blade with an easy gained from years of practice. Margaery had watched Garlan and Loras and squires training in Highgarden when she was a little girl and she was allowed to watch them. It had been much better then sewing, but a long way.

She finally tore her eyes from the battling men and looked around the yard. Others were watching the two fighting, others conducting duels of their own. Margaery spotted a little girl, maybe ten or eleven, covered in mud and watching them, her head cocked to one side.

She strolled over to the little girl and leaned next to her on the stone wall.

"Robb has to bring his guard up a bit, he's too slow to block his head." The little girl said as she looked towards her.

Margaery smiled and said "You sound like an expert. And what is your name?"

The little girl looked at her with steely grey eyes and a muddy face and said "I'm Arya Stark, and what are you doing here? Aren't flowery southern ladies all about dancing and singing?"

Margaery smiled and said "Not all young ladies are about dancing and singing and sewing Lady Arya. I grew up with three brothers, and I spent afternoons watching them duel."

Lady Arya frowned and said "I'm no Lady, it's just Arya. Lady Margaery."

Margaery looked at Arya and into her stubborn grey eyes.

"I'll call you Arya if you call me Margaery, do we have a deal?" she asked. A small smirking smile spread across her face and she held her hand out to shake the deal.

As she did, it seemed the duel ended. Lord Stark flipped the black cloaked man's sword from his hand and placed the tip of his at his throat, and said "Dead."

The man in black shook his head and said "You got better Stark, I'll give you that."

Lord Stark lowered his sword and said "Same with you Snow."

Margaery raised an eyebrow. "Who's the man in black?" she asked Arya in a low whisper. The girl tensed slightly and said "My half-brother, Jon Snow. He's Lord Commander at the Wall."

She had heard of Eddard Stark's bastard son, the one he raised alongside his trueborn children. She hadn't known he had joined the Watch though, or his Lordship.

Stark and Snow shook hands and sheathed their swords, walking alongside talking in low voices. The cut on Lord Stark's arm was still steadily bleeding, but no one seemed excited to interrupt the heated conversation they were having.

Jon Snow crossed his arms and must have sensed someone watching him. He looked over at her and locked eyes with her, and she felt something cold pass through her gut. The gaze was unnerving.

Jon Snow clapped his half-brother on the shoulder and said loud enough for their voices to drift over to them.

"Just see the bloody Maester already. It won't do yourself any favors leaving it bleeding like this."

Lord Stark submitted gracefully, casting him a mocking glare and heading inside, towards the Maester's chamber. Leaving Jon Snow alone in the yard. None seemed eager to offer him a fight, and Margaery turned to leave when Arya called out "Jon!"

His head turned towards her and his serious face grew a small smile, though that too seemed serious and brooding. He walked over and mussed up Arya's hair.

"Your Septa won't like you  
sneaking away little sister." He told her, and Arya knocked his hand away.

"The Septa pinches and pokes and falls asleep all the time. She won't even notice I'm gone." Arya said heatedly, and Jon Snow turned on her.

"And you are?"

She curtsied as was proper and said "Margaery Tyrell, Lord Snow."

He nodded once and asked "What are Tyrells doing this far north of King's Landing? You generally stay away from anything north of the Neck."

Margaery crossed her arms. She felt the urge to poke and jape at Jon Snow until he smiled and lost his serious face. She withheld the urge and said "I thought you Night Watchmen stayed at your precious Wall? Aren't there wildlings you should be watching for?"

Jon Snow didn't smile, but his face lost the brooding cloud hanging over it.

"I didn't think Lord Stark could manage the Targaryen royals for very long without somewhere to vent his frustrations. And it appears that I was right."

Margaery felt her respect for the man grow and she said "The Targaryens are very…intense at times. Lord Stark seems to be handling himself very well."

Jon Snow smirked and said "He's as tense as a man condemned right now, he can just hide it well."

Arya grabbed Jon by the wrist and said "Come on, you're supposed to help me with my Needle work."

Margaery was confused. "How could a man help with needlework? Isn't that women's work?"

Jon looked back at her and said "Not the needle work you're thinking of. It was a pleasure to meet you, Lady Tyrell."

She smiled at the Lord Commander and watched with amusement as he was dragged away by the little Lady Stark.

Jeyne tugged on her sleeve, oddly silent and said "Lord Stark appears to be looking for you."

Margaery glanced back and found the Lord of Winterfell, his arm bandaged, and walking towards her. He bowed slightly and said "Lady Margaery."

She curtsied and said "Lord Robb. That was a fine battle."

He asked "You were watching?"

She smiled and said "Not the entire duel, but the ending. I met Lady Arya and she introduced me to Jon Snow."

He seemed to tense at the mention of his half-brother, as if preparing for a verbal war.

"Jon's a good man." He stated, and Margaery nodded.

"He's like you in some respects." She said.

She didn't realize that they had started walking together, her arm looped through his and Aegon's warning long forgotten.

"Oh really?" Lord Stark looked down at her with his bright eyes, seeming brighter on his sun beaten face "How so?"

"You both are quiet at first, always serious and both look quite dangerous with a sword in your hand." She smirked and said "Shall I go on."

Lord Stark shook his head and said "It is good to see Jon though, it's been nearly a year since he last came down from the Wall."

Margaery nodded and said "I miss Garlan sometimes too, and Willas and Grandmother. They're all back at Highgarden, and I'm in King's Landing. It's not easy for Willas with his leg and Grandmother isn't as young as she would like herself to be."  
Lord Stark seemed curious.

"I have heard of the Queen of Thorn." Margaery smiled at the nickname "What is she really like?"  
Margaery shrugged and talked, and they talked and talked for what felt like hours. She told him about Highgarden and her family, and he told her about his family, but he shied away from his mother and father and little brothers.

"Sansa used to want to be the perfect lady, and she always dreamed of her knight in shining armor coming to sweep her off her feet and into her song. Now she's quiet and doesn't talk much. I don't know what to do, my lady mother would."

His voice was heavy, the burden of rebuilding his home and keeping his remaining family together was putting a weight on his shoulders that left him shaking. She patted his arm and realized she had reached her room.

"This is where you were heading, no?" he asked, as if anxious to leave the topic behind. She nodded and released his arm.

"Thank you Lord Stark." She said, and glanced back behind her, but Jeyne was out of sight. "Have you seen Jeyne?"

Every muscle in his body seemed to tense, and he turned pale as snow. His hands shook slightly and he asked "What my lady?"

"My maid, Jeyne, she was with me in the yard." She said, and realized her mistake too late.

Lord Stark looked like whatever had been keeping him standing was pulled from beneath his feet. The pure grief in his eyes made her heart ache for him and she felt all the guilt in the world press heavily on her heart.

"Excuse me, my lady, I have to leave." He said, his voice still strong despite how shattered he looked. He turned and nearly fled, walking quickly away.

"Lord Stark!" she wanted to call after him. She was half surprised she didn't. She was frozen with horror at what she had just said and done to the man who had been so kind and gentle to her.

"Robb!" she called out, turning and racing after him.

**Smooth Marge. Smooth.**


	4. Chapter 4

**I have received several questions about Robb's reaction to the mention of the maid I named Jeyne. I chose that name because Jeyne Westerling was his queen. Jeyne was killed in front of him under a banner of truce by the Targaryens, which might explain a bit of the resentment and general HATE Robb has. Also, talking to a young woman who mentioned his dead wife's name so suddenly might startle him a little bit, because he wasn't expecting it. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own GOT or song of ice and fire **

Margaery caught up with him before he could truly get lost in Winterfell, in places she could never have a hope to find him. She grabbed his sleeve and made him stop with pure stubborn-mindedness. He stopped, but refused to meet her eyes.

She felt awful, the guilt of what her words had done to him, especially since he had been so kind, made her heart knot tightly and made her stomach roll. She took a breath and said softly "I am so sorry. I should never had done that, I should never have asked. I was not thinking, and I hurt you and I apologize."

Robb nodded stiffly, but she didn't feel forgiven. She had wounded him deeply, bringing up his wife who died before him with him unable to help her. And it would have reminded him of his mother who was said to have died as he was on his knees.

She stood in front of him, though he stood maybe a head taller than her she looked up at him, forcing him to meet her eyes.

"If there is anything I can do for you to forgive me, just say it. You have been nothing but kind and I have done nothing but hurt you." She said quietly, and Robb sighed, stirring her hair around her face.

"I…I just was not prepared. I am sorry if I caused my lady offense." He said, and she wanted nothing but to throw her arms around him and comfort him. She had no idea where the feeling came from, why she wanted nothing but to be close to Lord Stark and to comfort him because she felt like _awful_!

She smiled at him and said "And if the rumors going around have angered you, I am sorry about that as well."

Robb frowned and asked "What rumors?"

Margaery frowned and asked "You have not heard? Aegon told me rumors about…"

She dare not say what, not willing to damage the delicate peace that she had managed to mend. Like a piece of glass, if even dropped it would shatter beyond repair. She would not risk it again.

Robb tensed slightly and stepped back half a step, and she felt heat rising to her face when she realized they had been standing _far _too close together.

She looked down to smooth her skirts smooth, saving herself from looking at Lord Stark and said "Nothing my lord, don't worry."

She made to turn and leave, to find Aegon and have a few choice words with him about these rumors, when she felt Lord Stark's hand on her wrist. His fingers were warm and calloused with sword training, but were gentle as he turned her around and asked "What rumors?"

Margaery flushed and looked down. Why was she acting like some shy maid? What about Lord Stark made her so flustered and made her blush so much?

She felt a gentle finger under her chin and lifting her face to meet his, and his lips turned up in a smile.

"What rumors?" he asked again.

She took a breath and said "Aegon told me that your northern lords were starting rumors that I am trying to….seduce you and become the next Lady Stark. That I would dishonor you."

She looked at Robb's face, and saw him school it to one of calm. He released her wrist his hand swung down to his side. Her fingers itched to take his hand in hers, to feel his fingers twine between hers.

What was wrong with her?

"I have heard no such rumors, and I doubt that my lords would say such." Lord Stark said, and he pulled away from her slightly. He didn't seem insulted by what she had said, more angry at Aegon for accusing his lords of saying such about her and him.

He bowed to her once and said "Excuse me my lady, I would speak with Lord Aegon on the matter."

Margaery stopped him before he turned to leave and asked "Why would he start something like this?"

Robb looked back at her and something seemed to change in his eyes, something to deep for Margaery to see.

"I intend to ask Lady Margaery."

He took her hand and pressed his lips to the back of her hand.

"My lady." He said, and left.

The hand he had kissed tingled slightly and she held it in her other hand, and made her way back to her room.

Her maid was inside waiting for her.

"Lady Margaery, where have you been? I got back a few minutes ago, but you weren't here."

Margaery sat on her bed and said "Come Jeyne, I would like to go see the ladies of the keep."

Daenerys was not there, amidst the chattering ladies as they stitched. It was far better, since she had never been taught and it would be embarrassing for the ladies to be better than the Dragon Queen at anything. Sansa was there, quiet and shy amidst the chattering ladies. Margaery took up her stitching, a red cloth with a two headed red dragon, and said "Dear Lady Sansa, how do you fare? I have not seen you since last night."

Sansa looked up at her in surprise and said "I am fine, my lady."  
She offered no other words, and Margaery wondered where the happy young girl had gone, to be replaced by this quiet, shy woman.

"Come now sweet girl, you can call me Margery." She said with a smile, hoping the small friendly courtesy would help. Sansa looked up at her from the silver cloth she was embroidering, a fierce silver direwolf of exquisite detail on a simple white wool cloth. Margery felt her own work of red silk and black velvet pale in comparison.

"You have beautiful stitches Lady Sansa. I feel my own work pales like a lily next to a rose." She complimented. Sansa smiled and said "Thank you Lady Margaery. It is nothing, and your work is truly beautiful."

Taking up a needle, she smiled at the fiery haired Stark girl and said "Oh, this is nothing. I am not even good at stitching dragons, since I haven't been doing it very long. I'm much better at roses, but Aegon doesn't like roses where there should only be dragons. I think they should be grateful for dragons since they won that war for them, after all."

She stabbed at the blood red cloth bitterly, and she saw Sansa blink at her in silent surprise. She had never _ever _spoken so bitterly about someone before, not even Joffrey when she heard that she would wed him and what a true and utter beast he was. She kept a lid on her emotions in the pit trap that was King's Landing, and even here she thought she had some semblance of control. But it appeared that she had no control over what she would say or do, and she needed to fix that very quickly.

"Um, Lady Margery. You seem to have…decapitated your dragon." Sansa said timidly, like a mouse paralyzed before a snake.

She had stabbed one dragon through its monstrous head, ruining her stitching. She set aside the cloth and asked "Have you any cloth to spare? I fear I have destroyed mine."

Sansa smiled, a bare hint of a upturn of her mouth, and passed her a white wool cloth that was in her basket beside her. Of course, she wouldn't have red or black, being Targaryen colors and her firmly a Stark.

She fingered the white cloth softly, twirling it before picking up her needle and threading it with gold.

The time flew by and Margaery felt herself relax around the cautious Stark girl. She was much quieter then she had been last night, but still she opened up a little and they were soon talking. Margery carried on most of the conversation and Sansa seemed inclined to listen.

"And it was truly awful to look at, it was like a pinkish red and Aegon looked ready to give the washerwoman to one of the dragons, despite Daenerys' law about burning people. Course, she hasn't obeyed that law herself, but she is queen and no one argues with her." Margaery chattered, and Sansa grinned.

"So Aegon had to go around in pink tunics for two days before the new red tunics came in. No one dared mention it to his face, but it was rather funny." Margaery smiled as Sansa giggled, a small sound. They were unheard as the other women chattered like birds around her. She shook her head, her brown hair rolling down her shoulders. Sansa asked "What did actually happen to the washerwoman, who turned Aegon's clothes pink?"

Margaery stopped smiling and said "They lashed her for her 'insolence' as Aegon phrased it, but I thought it was just an honest mistake. But it turned out, the washerwoman was from the north come south a while ago, and Daenerys and Aegon found out."

Sansa winced at the poor washerwoman's fate, but smiled and said "I don't think Prince Aegon would have enjoyed walking around in pink as he was."

Just as Margaery managed to silence Sansa and herself, the door opened and Daenerys swept in. She continually complained of the cold, but wearing light silks like you would find in Dorne or Essos, it was obvious why. She wore a pale violet silk dress, a red fox fur around her shoulders. She walked in like a queen, tall as she could stand with her stature and her face cool like a queen.

"Lady Tyrell, if you would follow me." She said, and left in a swirl of cloth without even waiting for Margaery to stand. She looked down at her stitching, a golden rose on white, and stood and tucked the cloth in Sansa's basket.

"Don't lose that for me, I would rather like to finish it." She whispered. Sansa nodded and Margaery followed after the queen.

Daenerys pulled her into an empty room and asked "Have you seen Lord Stark?"

Margaery blinked twice before the question reached her mind.

"Lord Stark? No, I haven't." she said. Daenerys' scowled and said "You seem to have taken to him quite well, so I thought you would have known. Never mind, it does not matter to you."

Margaery touched the Dragon Queen's arm and she turned to leave. "What are you seeking Lord Stark for?" she asked.

Daenerys looked at her with unreadable violet eyes and said "Private matters between Lord Stark and I. No business of yours."

Margaery opened her mouth about how that Lord Stark was her friend, and that she should know when she stopped herself. Were she and Lord Stark even friends? They had talked a few times, and gotten along well when she wasn't being thoughtless and unfeeling. But did that count as friends. She wanted to know him, wanted to know who Lord Stark was behind his hard, handsome face.

And she did not just think Lord Stark handsome.

Daenerys was gone before she could salvage together a reply to that, and she was left standing alone in the room. She immediately left and nearly collided with Jon Snow.

He caught her elbow as she pitched towards the ground. He looked serious, as if just received grave news.

"Are you alright my lady?" he asked, and she nodded.

"Fine. Have you seen Lord Stark? Daenerys is looking for it and none of it sounds good."

Jon frowned and asked "What did she want?"

Margaery stepped back slightly and said "I do not know, but Daenerys and Lord Stark have never gotten along well, and if she is looking for him it means something bad must be happening."

Jon's hand tightened on the sword she just realized was at his hip and said "I haven't seen Robb since he left with you. Where would he be?"

Margaery shook her head and said "I don't know."

Jon shook his head and said "Return to Sansa, I'll go find him."

Margaery was brushed aside as the stoic Lord Snow walked away, hunting for his half-brother.

She wondered faintly where Lord Stark had gone.

**In reply to a review I received, if you don't like my story, DON'T READ IT! Simple as that. I have read a few stories I didn't like, but I didn't insult the characters or the writer in a review. I am fine if you have advice or constructive criticism, I'm always trying to get better, but please PHRASE IT NICELY!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Wow, haven't been here in a while. Had to read through this to figure out where I am. Fells weird, being back. Like, a long time. Sorry if I kept you waiting.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own GOT or song of ice and fire. **

Naturally, she did not return to the sewing room with Sansa. She was curious and felt that if she did do that, she would not find out what had happened until much later.

So she followed Jon.

She was quiet, of course she was. She did not know her way around Winterfell, and he had grown up here. Knew the places to hides better than the rest of the court that had come with her and the Targaryens. She kept to the shadows, and hid whenever he had looked back. Then she saw him duck into the godswood, the way she had ended up entering. Of course, Robb would go to his gods if he wanted to be alone.

Jon strode to the heart of the wood, past tall bone like trees. The sound of the castle disappeared right after she stepped into the woods, almost like a veil had fallen between them. The silence was deafening.

Jon was still ahead, Ghost at his side. She had seen the direwolf glance back at her several times, but he didn't alert his master to her presence, just let her continue to follow.

"Snow."

Margaery jumped at the sound of his voice. He stepped out from the trees as if melting from their bark. His eyes were hard and angry, dark with hatred.

Jon didn't seem surprise, or intimidated. "Stark." He muttered in return.

Lord Stark's jaw tensed and his hands fisted, clenching tightly until the knuckles were white. She didn't understand how he could be out in this cold without gloves. She had shed her cloak and she was freezing.

"What did they say?" Jon asked. He knew what was bothering him, as if they shared a mind.

Robb's face turned dark, and he looked terrifying. She had seen him cold and proud, and she had seen him warm and kind and gently with her, but she had never seen him like this.

_They call him the Young Wolf. They say he can turn into a wolf if he wants._

Never had Lord Stark looked more northern, or angry, or powerful. She half believed that he would turn into a wolf and tear someone's throat out.

Robb slammed his fist into one of the trees. He growled "Aegon want to take Sansa back with them, marry her to some prince in Dorne. Dorne Jon! They want her away from me. They're punishing my family to punish me."

As he said the words, all the hate drained out of him. He looked so torn at his sister, the only family that had returned north with him, to be gone back south.

Jon's jaw had dropped, but he closed it. "They can't, you're the Lord of Winterfell, and they cannot betroth her without your consent."

Robb nodded and said "It's her to go south and wed…or I."

Margaery felt her heart stop.

It skipped one beat, two in her chest. Robb, the nice kind lord of Winterfell, warmer than any cold southern lord she knew, married to some fanciful, evil snake. She could not imagine him in court, lying through his teeth. The north was his place, he should not leave. But she knew he would. He would leave to protect his sister from what killed his family in the first place. His mother, father. His sister still missing after running from King's Landing, his brothers burnt by a man he called his friend. He would not let the same people who mistreated her take her back.

Jon still had not said anything.

"You, they…." He struggled for words. Robb looked exhausted, though she had only seen him a while ago.

Margaery felt something squeezing her chest, and she couldn't breathe. Robb, wed to some silly southern wench and forced to go to court and he would die surrounded by vipers.

Robb looked down at his feet and Jon said "How can they even _think _of returning you to King's Landing? After what they did."

Robb's hand flew up to the red scar winding around the back of his neck. The mark that was fresh, just starting to scar. Looked the end of a tail of some kind.

Oh gods. They didn't. They…they did. The evidence was in his eyes, those clear blue eyes of his, the red mark on his neck, the way he ducked his head and Jon's words.

Good gods, he couldn't have been more than six and ten then. He couldn't be more than seven and ten now. So soon.

She couldn't stay and listen anymore. She didn't care if they heard her. She fled, running with her skirts bunched in her fist and she ran, back to the castle.

She couldn't even look at Sansa as she sat and ate the deer meat for dinner, couldn't look at her unknowing blue eyes, that sweet face that would break when she heard what the Targaryens, her betrothed and a woman she had called friend, had forced her brother to do. What he would do in order to protect his sister, the only family he knew he had left.

She poked at her dinner all night, unable to eat with the churning in her belly. She knew who Daenerys and Aegon would offer up to wed to Robb. They would give him to Arianne Martell, the heir to Sunspear. She would come to court and she would flirt and ruin him, ruin his honor and him. They would just, break him. She did not hate the girl herself, but at the thought of her wed to Robb, holding his hand, kissing him, her hands running through his hair, making him want her and then leave him behind for a new toy-

Oh dear Seven. She was not thinking of Arianne Martell wed to Robb and feeling _jealous_!

She couldn't. She was betrothed to Aegon, Robb probably didn't even like her. Why would he? She was betrothed to the people who did, _something, _to him. She was to marry a dragon, become a dragon herself.

Stop it, she chided herself, you can't wed him you have a betrothed. But she still wondered what it would be like to kiss Robb Stark.

No, no thinking like that. Aegon is your betrothed. Aegon Targaryen, Hand of the Queen. Her father was so proud when they accepted, her mother, her brothers. Everyone was so happy for her, for the things it would mean, being wed to the queen's nephew.

She couldn't disappoint her family.

She couldn't stop herself. She couldn't make her feet move back around, turn away from their course.

She stopped in front of Robb, who was alone.

"My lord." She curtsied "I was wondering, if you would walk with me to the godswood. I still have not seen the heart tree and I would enjoy your company."

Lord Stark turned and seemed a little taken back. But he nodded and offered her his arm. She took it, and they walked towards what she supposed was another entrance to the godswood.

"Lord Stark, might I speak freely?" she asked. She was terrified, her nerves jumping at the slightest sound.

They had been traveling in silence so far. He was quiet, brooding. She wondered if he was thinking over the betrothal to the woman in the south that was waiting for him, leaving his sister here safe.

"Yes, of course." He said.

She took a breath. She had to do this know.

"Queen Daenerys came looking for me yesterday, asking where you were. I did not know, and I asked her why. She said she wanted to speak with you."

Robb tensed at the queen's name and said "I spoke with the Targaryens already my lady, do not worry."

She bit her lip, a habit of hers when she was nervous.

"That is not all. I ran into your brother Jon afterwards, and he said he hadn't seen you since the training yard. So, when he went to find you, I was worried. I consider you a friend, even if you don't think of me as one. So, I followed."

He froze. His eyes flew to hers, and they were wide and vulnerable. More than when she had brought up his dead wife, even then he kept his walls up. Now, he looked like she was about to bring a sword down through his neck.

"You…followed." He repeated. She nodded and said "I followed to the godswood, and I heard everything."

He looked prepared to speak, but she wanted, no needed, to apologize first.

"I am so sorry Lord Stark. I, I was just worried for you and I knew Jon would find you. I am sorry, it was not something I should have heard. I would ask for your forgiveness."

She bowed her head and waited for him to rage. Her father would have, and her brothers would have been more than displeased. Aegon would have brought down his dragons and demanded her not the share a word. But Robb, as always, surprised her.

He did not speak for a long moment, and he said slowly, choosing words carefully. "It would have become known anyway, in the end Lady Tyrell. But I, would ask of you something."

She looked up at him and said "Anything my lord."

He looked down at his feet and said "Do not tell Sansa about this. She is still, delicate after all that, and the news would do more hurt. I will tell her myself, before I do leave for King's Landing."

He rubbed his neck with his other hand, covering his scar and smiled at her. "Is that all Lady Margaery?"

He wasn't upset with her. He wasn't _angry_, but he probably wasn't happy with her. They walked to through the godswood together, until they reached the heart tree. The old face was weeping tears of blood, a sad, wise face etched into the white.

Robb knelt before the tree and said "We do not do things like in the south, with the Seven and special ceremonies. We come when we wish to pray. The old gods listen and they will bring calm and peace."

_Two things that you deserve more than any, Lord Stark, _she thought.

"They do not have aspects like your gods, I would think that they are all one. I come here, because my father did."

He gave her a small smile that seemed serious on his face and she said "This is a beautiful godswood. I would come here every day just to see it. The Seven are who I was born with, I pray to them all. But, I wonder if there are old gods too."

He helps her to her feet and they walk back in silence. She does not want to destroy the small tender moment they created in a few words. She just, does not want to.

Then, when they return to the castle, he takes her hand and pressed his warm lips to her knuckles.

"If I do go to King's Landing, and I could choose my lady wife that I would share heart and home with, I would have chosen you, my lady." He whispered to her, before walking away.

Margaery held her hand, and her fingers were shaking slightly. Curse the gods, she was more confused than ever.

**I planned on leaving it much shorter, but it just came and came out of me. Hope you enjoy.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Alright, MB18932, I am NOT going to tell you what happened to Robb because you will find out LATER! I will leave you in suspense for now, because I am still working. I won't give you details, but I will tell you that Robb was tortured in King's Landing, when they tried to get him to surrender and give up sovereignty over the north.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own GOT or song of ice and fire**

She didn't see Robb for another two days. She stayed with Sansa in the sewing room as thick grey clouds gathered from the north. Every northerner she spoke to predicted a snowstorm, and Jon Snow set out immediately.

"I have to reach the Wall before the storm makes it too difficult to travel." He told her as he said his goodbyes. She didn't know the man well, but she still missed him. The snowstorm arrived with howling winds and heavy snows that towered over her head. Margaery had never been so cold, and she shivered all through the day and night. The castle seemed to be made of ice now, cold emanating from the walls that crept across the floor and made a cold fist that enclosed the castle and all the people trapped inside.

Daenerys had seen to it that her dragons were brought in from the frost ridden fields and placed in the training yard. Sansa whispered that Robb had protested vehemently against dragons in Winterfell, but Daenerys disregarded every danger of fire in the keep and set them there anyway. She had heard that the keep had been put to the torch before, and they had just finished long moons of repair before the royal family had arrived. She understood that Lord Stark would not want to ruin all the work just finished.

She sat inside with Sansa most days, sewing and talking quietly. She learned much of the young girl and even considered her a friend, a close friend. Margaery told her much of Highgarden and of the realm outside King's Landing. She shied from the subject of the capital itself, as if fearing that word would slip that her only family would be returning there, to the place that had tormented her and imprisoned her throughout the war. She had promised Robb she would say nothing, and nothing of it she said.

The young girl didn't look to terribly troubled by the snowstorm.

"Winterfell has stood for thousands of winters. What's one little snowstorm?" she had asked. Margaery, honestly, had no answer.

So she stayed inside. She saw little and less of the young lord of Winterfell. She saw Aegon daily, he escorted her downstairs every morning to breakfast with him, Daenerys and her brother Loras, mostly for her benefit. Daenerys and Aegon gave each other long looks and ignored her to the point that she wondered if she should just get up and leave. Loras would talk with her, but she couldn't say much to him with the Targaryens sitting just feet from her.

What she really wanted to do was speak with Robb. After what he said in the courtyard, she hadn't seen him since. He and Daenerys and Aegon spoke most afternoons and when she asked after him, Sansa just said he was rather cross most days now, and despite her family's loyalty to the dragons, she couldn't help but understand him.

She sat in the sewing room now, stitching the white wool cloth she had been working on for two days. The golden rose she had been stitching was taking a definite shape, and it was positively the most beautiful thing she had ever done.

She smiled at Sansa and said "Have you ever wanted to go back south. I think you would adore Highgarden. All the roses, it feels like summer lasts forever. Here is the opposite, almost like winter will never end."

Sansa smiled sadly and said "I might one day, but not now. It is too soon to tell if I could ever descend south of the Neck. But I hope to see Highgarden one day. It sounds like something of a song."

The cold chill that settled in her heart when she mentioned the slight fear of leaving the north made her worry for Robb. The royal party was leaving in a few weeks, only two now that this snowstorm had descended on them. Not near enough time to say his farewells and prepare his sister for the role of Lady of Winterfell, the only Stark left in Winterfell. He would descend south and become another pawn in some lord's plan and she knew that King's Landing was little more than a viper's nest.

She didn't notice that the door had been opened, or that Sansa had looked up and smiled brightly. She did notice the black, muddy boots as she looked down at her sewing, and she looked up to see Robb Stark. His face was pink from the winds and his eyes were like walls of ice, not letting even the slightest hint of his thoughts passed.

"My lady Tyrell, I would ask that you join me on a walk." He said lightly, extending his hand towards her. She glanced at Sansa, who looked equally as surprised, but said nothing. A small smile stretched across her face and she hid a grin behind her hand. She set aside her sewing and said "Of course Lord Stark, I would be honored."

Ignoring the eyes of the ladies in the room, she let Lord Stark escort her outside the room and through the cold halls.

His warm presence finally seemed to melt some of the cold from the icy walls. She hadn't felt this warm since the snow storm had set in.

Robb looked down at his feet and said quietly "I am sorry I have not seen you these past days. The Targaryens have been quite… adamant on speaking of trivial matters."

She smiled and said "It is fine. Your sister is lovely company, she is a sweet young lady."

Robb nodded and sighed. His shoulders seemed to have pressed down with some invisible weight, and his eyes found hers.

"Have you told my sister of my…plans to leave?"

She saw the hint of fear. He had been betrayed before, and he was worried that she would to. It would serve him well in King's Landing, that instinct.

"No. I gave my word and I will hold to it. I may be no Stark about my word, but we Tyrells have some sense of honor." She said. Robb relaxed a little, the tension leaving his shoulders. She had kept his secret.

Then the weight of having to tell his sister returned and he looked exhausted.

They strolled aimlessly, ignorant of where they were or where they were heading. Margaery looked up at his face and said "Is something troubling you Lord Stark."

He looked at her, locked eyes with her and the way they held hers made her stop and face him.

"If what I said in the courtyard days past has…offended you my lady. You don't act like the ladies south that I was told of, all lies and plots and treachery. I had hoped for one truthful friend in that hellhole." He said, and she blinked a few times. He seemed to think that he hadn't gotten the point across, as he continued.

"You don't seem to have any ulterior motives for speaking with me, and I feel that, when I know you better, you would be a good friend." He said.

He thought she was a good friend. He thought she was a friend. She smiled and said "I am glad that you consider me a friend Lord Stark. But if we would be friends, please, call me Margaery."

He grinned and she added "You have not offended me my lord, I was merely, surprised at what you said. I have never had a man seem more sincere in his words before."

She felt her heart skip at the faint flush that spread across his cheeks, almost invisible against the wind raw face. But she saw it and felt like smiling.

"Come now, we haven't spoken in days, I would wish to speak with my friend."

They talked as they walked, and she was half certain that they had circled around the keep maybe twice now. She didn't really care.

Robb Stark was far from men like Renly, always happy and smiling and such. He was very different from Joffrey, who was cruel and evil and twisted. He was unlike Aegon, who was aloof at times, distant and more interested in someone not his betrothed. The young Lord of Stark was kind, he did have a serious face, but he also seemed to relax around her, let his walls down a little. She wondered if she would ever see the true him, the one that never hid behind the walls like when he was around Sansa. She wondered, but didn't pry.

"Does my lady like horse riding?" he asked her quietly after a hush had fallen over them. She smiled and said "I would go riding every chance I get in Highgarden and sometimes I go in King's Landing. But not as often as I would like."

Robb smiled, and she felt her heart stutter at the way his face seemed to brighten as his lips pulled back.

"There is nothing in all of Westeros like the Wolfwood after a snow, and I was hoping if my lady would join me."

She felt her heart beat faster and she said "How could I say no?"

She sat with Sansa afterwards, just her and the young Stark. Arya had vanished off somewhere, claiming she had eaten earlier. She never saw much of the youngest Stark, but she stayed to the sewing room, and that was far from where the young Arya would dwell.

"She likes mud and horses and swords more than dancing. She's more boy then girl." Sansa said, smiling to herself. "We argued so bitterly when we were younger, now we don't talk very often. She got her own room and she stays in the yard and I stay inside."

Margaery smiled and said "I grew up with three older brothers. I sometimes wished I had a sister, if only to speak with about silly things and sew with. You should be thankful you have a sister at all."

Sansa shook her head, loose hair falling into her face. "I just do not know how to speak with her. She's so, boyish and I don't understand when she talks of swords or the woods. Who would want to go into the woods?"

Margaery sighed and offered "Well, find something both of you enjoy. It may be small, like the same food or the godswood or some such, but it would be a start."

Sansa nodded and sighed heavily. The room fell silent and Margaery let it. There was nothing to say, and she could not think of a thing to say. She finished the lemon cakes (Sansa had an affinity for them) and spoke. "I must take my leave now, so I shall see you at dinner?"

Sansa nodded, lost in her thoughts. Margaery had always thought her delicate, but now she looked more fragile, like glass. She looked like she would shatter if Margaery even touched her. The poor girl was so young, gone through so much. Suffered so much.

All the Starks had. The north, the Starks, the entire Westeros all because of one man and woman, who had illegal children. Power hungry, mad children.

For the first time in a long time, Margaery thought of Myrcella 'Baratheon'. She had been her friend whenever she went to court, but it wasn't often and the young girl was five years her junior. She had been a sweet girl, but clever like her mother and like a little golden princess. She heard that she and her brother Tommen were in Dorne, the young girl betrothed to Trystane Martell and her brother waiting till he could go to Hightower.

Shaking her head of the dreary thoughts, she kissed Sansa's hair and left in a flurry of skirts, heavy skirts to stave off the deep chill that still hung over the keep like a fog. The halls were empty of anyone, giving the feeling of abandonment. She shivered slightly and tugged at her sleeves. The sooner she was in someone's company, the better.

"Lord Stark, you have not yet answered to our request. Surely you are not that indecisive?"

Margaery felt her heart skip one beat, two, before thumping against her chest. She ducked back into an empty room, and unused bedchamber, and pressed her ear to the closed door.

"This is not a choice to be made without a moment's hesitation Your Grace." Robb answered, the cold tone of voice making the term 'Your Grace' sound as if insulting, undeserving.

Aegon chuckled bitterly and said "What else is there to consider? My cousin is quite prepared, she has agreed to the betrothal. You have your younger sister to take over your duties. Everything is arranged."

Robb's voice got impossibly chillier. "I rushed into a betrothal once, and it cost my mother and many of my men their lives. And Sansa is thirteen. She is not prepared to take on ladyship of Winterfell. She does not even know of this deal you propose. There is the north to consider, their reactions, leaving my family, and I may not agree to this proposition of yours."

Margaery waited for Aegon to say something. There was a pregnant pause, and Aegon's voice was smooth as silk.

"I give you three days to make up your fickle mind lord Stark, and either you go south, or you eldest sister does."

Robb made no reply, and the sound of Aegon's boots walking past her made her hold her breath. The clicking passed and Margaery pressed her ear again to the door, barely hearing Robb's soft sigh.

"Old gods, what do I do?"

**GAH! FINALLY! TOOK ME LONG ENOUGH! CURSE YOU OLD GODS FOR THE MOUNTAIN SIZED WRITER'S BLOCK! I'M BLAMING GLOBAL WARMING!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I don't own GOT or song of ice and fire**

She waited, ears strained for any sound, and just caught the sound of Robb walking away, boots clicking on the ground. She let out a breath and leaned her forehead against the door. Oh Robb…

Then there was something scratching at the door, and her heart leapt out of her chest. Breathing heavily, she heard a faint whimpering and with shaking hands, she opened the door.

Grey Wind sat watching her with his yellow eyes, as if making a silent plea to her.

He nudged her hand with his muzzle and stood, padding away a few steps before turning to look back at her over his shoulder.

"Where are you going?" she whispered to herself as she followed the direwolf. He led her through winding stone halls, glancing back now and then to see if she was following.

The cold wind hit her first as they crossed the yard. The place was barren, all howling snows and whipping winds, leaving her face raw and red. She shivered, trying to see Grey Wind through the violent lashing storm around her.

"Grey Wind!" she called over the winds, but her voice was lost in their long, piercing scream.

Then, something trembled under her feet. From the white winds, the black head of Daenerys' dragon loomed overhead, ruby eyes alight with an inner fire and smoke trailed from his nostrils. The head watched her, as if wondering if it was worth the effort of torching and eating her.

Fear gripped her heart and panic washed over her mind. Stumbling back, her wind raw hands out in a placating gesture, her back hit stone wall. If she could only find the door. The monster loomed closer, and sparks danced along his nostrils, and Margaery wondered in the grips of her panic if they would find her burnt corpse or would the dragon eat her.

Before she could scream her fear, Grey Wind pushed against her thigh, pushing her into the whirling mass and she gripped the frosty fur beneath her fingers. Heart racing in her chest, she looked down at the direwolf beside her and said "I prefer you to him."

The wolf blinked and his lips pulled back in what could be seen as an attempt to almost smile, and he herded her through the storm outside to a small hall in the stone walls around her. Stepping out from the wind, she shook the heavy white flakes from her hair and tugged her cloak around her. There would be blood spilled when Jeyne found out about her tramping around outside in her thin clothes without a fur cloak, but Jeyne was not there now. Grey Wind was padding on ahead now.

The hall was long and narrow, descending to steep steps with unlit torches on either side. She carefully made her way down, mindful of her wet dress and the silence that pressed against her ears, louder than any noise to be made. Grey Wind, silent as his name, disappeared in the reaching shadows and ignorant to her following behind him.

_This is ridiculous. He is a wolf, he probably is just wandering. I am a fool for following him._ The reasonable part of her mind said. But her feet continued. Something was pushing her forward, and the prospect of heading back into the storm with the unseen dragons and no direwolf at her side seemed less than enjoyable. At least this tomb was warmer than the winter outside.

As she reached the end of the sloping steps, she realized it was a tomb, where the old Kings of Winter were buried with their direwolves and swords. The darkness was lit by a pinprick of light, a torch somewhere up ahead. Someone else was down here.

Treading carefully and holding her breath, Margaery crept closer and saw a fur cloak around shoulders, sitting at the feet of a man with a solemn face and a new iron sword in his hands.

"I don't know what to do Father." The figure said, and with a jolt, Margaery realized it was Robb. "Sansa cannot go south to King's Landing. She would not, and I cannot send my only living kin to the Dornish deserts. She is northern."

There was a deep sigh, and Robb said "But she is not ready to be Lady of Winterfell if I _do _go south as the Targaryens wish. I do not even know which lady they intend to wed me to if I do go south."

Grey Wind was at his feet, curled around his snowy boots and looking at Robb with sad yellow eyes. Robb looked up at the ceiling of the stone crypt and said "Father, please."

Margaery felt like an intruder, someone who should not be here. This was not meant to be seen, there should be no witnesses but the direwolf and the dead. But she could not make her feet move, to carry her from this place of silence and stone. Not when Robb sounded so torn.

Robb stood, brushing a hand on the stone hand of his father, then turned to the tomb on the left of the dead man. It was a woman, with long hair and there was a Tully fish on her breast.

"Mother, please. I cannot protect our family." Robb said. Margaery felt something cold and hard settle in her chest, obstructing her throat. The Targaryens were forcing him to make this decision, to seek out his dead parents in a silent crypt for some hope of an answer. She slowly turned, and crept back towards the stairs. She would do something about this, she would try to fix this. For Sansa, who was a friend and younger sister to her. And for Robb…

She didn't realize how fast she had gone until the sting of the snowstorm was against her hands and face. Tugging her thin cotton cloak around her shoulders, she kept one hand on the icy stone wall as she circled slowly, trying to find the doorway back into the main part of the castle. Her eyes peered into the icy whiteness, straining for a sign that Daenerys' demons were closing in, to torch her and burn her alive in this cold winter desert.

Her fingers found the doorway and she ducked inside immediately, out of the howling winds and away from the young lord and the tomb of silent dead and the direwolf that always watched her. She wished she could do something.

The cold of the snow outside and the bitter winds and the cold clumps in her hair made her shiver, and she imagined a hot bath in her rooms, steam curling off the mirror like surface. First she had to find her room.

Leaving the doorway at her back, she went on a whim and turned right, following the path she faintly remembered she had taken when she followed the direwolf down to the crypt.

Like the last time she had dared these halls alone, she found herself winding through the castle, lost and she found herself praying for someone to cross her path.

"Margaery."

Her heart leaped out of her chest, and she turned to find Aegon, standing with Daenerys on his arm. The queen regarded her with stoicism, but Aegon grinned and said "Come and walk with us Lady Margaery, it appears that you are lost."

Margaery flushed and said "I am merely entertaining myself by wandering the halls of the keep. I am not lost."  
Aegon laughed and said "Very well, then my dear aunt and I shall continue our stroll."

Margaery wondered faintly if Robb Stark would come and escort her like the last time, but he was not there. He was deep under the castle, and she was lost. She sighed and said "I would be honored to join you on your walk."

Aegon grinned, a sign that he had won this little stand-off of wills and said "Follow along beside us, Daenerys and I were just discussing things."

Daenerys looked like she was carved from ice, her face was cool and perfect. Her violet eyes watched her, and she wondered if there was a flair of jealousy in her eyes. Why would the queen of the seven kingdoms be jealous of the woman to marry her nephew?

Unless that was the cause itself.

"What were you speaking of my lord, if I may be so bold as to ask?" she inquired, and Aegon glanced at Daenerys.

"We were speaking of matters that do not concern you, my betrothed." Aegon told her sharply, his joyful attitude gone in a puff of smoke.

Margaery nodded, all too used to Aegon's moods to be worried or disturbed. She remained silent as they walked her back to the center of the castle, the company more frigid then the horrid weather outside.

"Your Grace, if I may be so frank." She ventured. Daenerys turned her head to lock her violet eyes on her and said "You may."

Margaery swallowed again and said "Who would you betroth Lord Stark too, if he chose to go south with us back to King's Landing?"  
Daenerys face turned sour, as if this was a bad topic to broach. Aegon likewise, and he said for her benefit. "If Lord Stark would choose to come south, he would wed Arianna Martell and go to Dorne, or he would wed Daenerys, to bind the north to the throne. The choice in the end would be ours, and Daenerys has already given her consent."

No.

Nononononononono!

Robb and…Daenerys! He would hate her, for killing his first wife and for threatening his family and forcing him back to King's Landing after everything she and Aegon had done to him.

Images flashed through her mind, imagined scenes of Daenerys and Robb together. She would wed the Lord Stark, not Robb, the Lord Stark who was cold and stoic and seemingly emotionless. She would force him into that person, into the heartless character and destroy the Robb that she had seen a few times, but already felt fond of, protective of. She would _never _let the Dragon Queen near him like that.

While her mind was in utter chaos, her voice spoke for her "Oh, Your Grace, I hope that if Lord Stark does choose to come south, you have a happy marriage. Has he been made aware of this?" she carefully omitted the word long from the words her grandmother had drilled in her head since she had been old enough to speak. She would not wish for Robb to suffer anything by wedding Daenerys for long.

Daenerys smiled, though it lacked conviction and came more across as a reflex gesture, something she put on for Margaery's benefit.

"No, Lord Stark is not aware of this. He would refuse and we do not want him hidden in the north, far from where we can see him. Ever spiders freeze in the northern snows." Daenerys said.

The implication that Varys' spiders were watching made her acutely aware of the long walks that she and Robb had taken, what they had spoken of, and what they had not said. Varys was not someone to trust, and only was loyal to the Targaryens and would not hesitate to report his findings to them. She had to be more careful.

"Of course Your Grace, it would not do well for Lord Stark to be aware of this before he has agreed." Her mouth spoke. Margaery faintly recognized the hall to her room.

Aegon, who had been silent the entire time the two women had spoken, said "Lady Margaery, we have arrived."

He released her hand quickly, and said "I hope you learn not to wander now, Lady Margaery."

Margaery curtsied and said "Of course my lord, may you and Queen Daenerys enjoy the rest of the afternoon."

Aegon and Daenerys departed, and as soon as their white blonde hair had vanished behind a grim stone wall, Margaery opened her door, grabbed her thickest cloak and spun around, racing out the door and fumbling for the clasp.

She had to find Robb.

**Well MB18932, does this answer your question?**

**I feel so evil doing this. I'm smirking right now, just leaving you guys like that. Expect updates hopefully soon. **


	8. Chapter 8

**Alright, I'm really starting to get back into the story again. I know, I should be updating other stories right now, but I love this story right now so I'm updating while it lasts.** **sorry for the technical errors previous readers, the program was not working for me earlier and I didn't catch it till now. Apologies everyone.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own GOT or song of ice and fire**

It took all her self-control not to call out Robb's name, her mind frantic to find the Lord of Stark before the young man gave the Targaryens his decision. Her feet flew over the cold stone floor, her eyes strained for a hint of his dark ruby hair, a swirl of his cloak, a flick of the grey tail of his direwolf. But there was no sign.

Her heart was racing erratically, her mind flying far faster than her feet across the chilly stone floor. She wandered aimlessly, the stone halls blending together into one endless hall, and her eyes found nothing but grey and more grey and a servant or two along the way. She couldn't remember the way to the crypt below the castle. She didn't know where he was, and she needed to find him now!

Then, there was a flash of copper and a body crashed into her. Her feet slipped underneath her and she pulled both of them to the ground. She sat up to find Sansa and her face to face, Sansa's coppery hair falling into her face.

"Sansa, I'm so sorry." She gasped, her lungs crying with relief as she took in air again. She helped the young girl stand and Sansa brushed her skirt, only a little dust and dirt on the hem.

"I'm alright." Sansa said, smiling slightly. Then she blinked and asked "Have you seen my brother? I, he was supposed to come see me and Arya in his solar, but he wasn't there. Arya went to check the yard, and I came to find you."

Margaery took all of three seconds to respond to that, her mind drawing a blank for a moment.

"Me?" she asked. Sansa nodded and turned pink a little.

"You always seem to be with him, so I thought he would be with you now." Sansa smiled to her feet and a faint pink blush spread across her pale face. Margaery felt herself grow warm in her face and said "No, I was just looking for him myself."

Sansa didn't look up at her, instead, focusing intently on her feet.

"Well, where did you last see him?"

A flash of the crypt, Robb sitting at the feet of his father's tomb with Grey wind beside him and his hair like fire in the flickering torchlight. She blinked the image aside and said "I haven't seen him since this morning. I am sorry."

Sansa nodded and said "Well, if you see him before us, tell him Arya and I are looking for him."

She turned on heel, but before she could leave, Margaery grabbed her by the elbow.

"No, we can search together. I don't know the castle well enough to wander alone." She smiled at Sansa and the young girl nodded.

"Well, come along then. We can search the godswood, he goes there often." Sansa grabbed her hand and tugged her along, and she followed the red headed Stark down the cold halls of Winterfell.

She knew exactly where Robb was though, but she couldn't take his younger sisters there while he was trying to gather his thoughts, trying to find a way to absolve the dilemma that faced him with a dragon's eyes. She would let him have a few moments, alone and by himself with only the dead for companions. She could give him that much.

"Alright." Margaery agreed, letting the young girl pull her along towards the godswood. The young Stark weaved through the countless halls until they stood in the screaming snow again, but Sansa stood in the doorway.

"He would not sit out in that, would he?" she asked quietly, almost unheard of the wind's howling. Margaery looked out into the white whirlwind and said "I would imagine not, unless they find his body out there. But your brother is smarter than that, I would presume."

Sansa nodded distractedly, but her attention was drawn away when Arya ran up, in trousers and a tunic and with a cloak around her shoulders.

"I didn't find him in the yard, I couldn't see my hand in front of my face." Arya said, coming to stand in front of them.

Sansa frowned and asked "Where is he?"

"Sansa? Arya?"

Margaery felt her heart skip a beat once again, and she turned to see Robb shaking snow from his damp hair, Grey Wind shaking frost from his fur beside him.

"Robb, where were you?" Sansa asked, moving forward to dust some snow off his face. His hands were raw and pink, and his face as well had been beaten by the wind and cold. He ignored that and said "I must speak with you two now, if you will excuse us Lady Tyrell."

Margaery didn't have time to nod before Robb had turned and was leading his sisters along, back through the keep to what she presumed would be his study. Grey Wind lagged, glancing at her with sharp yellow eyes before following at a slower pace. Margaery sighed and followed the direwolf again.

Her rooms, she found, were not far from Robb's solar, but he was not there when she pressed her ear to the oak door. She moved to Sansa's rooms, where Grey Wind led her, and heard their voices drifting out from under the door.

Grey Wind sat outside the door, tail over his paws and eyes watching her with an almost humane plea, to open the door and help Robb from something he didn't understand, but feared. Something he wished to guard Robb from, as he rightly should.

"I'll help him." she told the direwolf, in response to the unspoken request.

Their voices drifted to her ears, muffled by the heavy oaken wood, but she couldn't bring herself to press her ear to the wood. She had eavesdropped once, and that had brought nothing but the weight of Daenerys' words resting on her heart and mind. Now she was about to do so again, yet she could not bring herself to mirror the action of earlier that day. She respected Sansa too much, Arya the little warrior, and Robb.

She leaned her forehead on the door and sighed. This was worse than at King's Landing, or even in Highgarden with ambitious, power hungry people hidden in the roses. She wondered faintly if Winterfell was more peaceful and warm before the Targaryens had arrived.

She was startled from her wandering thoughts by a loud thump and a demanding "WHAT!"

Robb's low voice, words undiscernible through the stone and wood, but she could guess what he had to say. He was explaining his decision, and she knew he would never allow the Targaryens to take his sister back to the place where their father had died, where she had suffered for so long in silence.

It didn't take muck thinking to figure out that it was Arya that had called out, her voice sharp with the pain of losing another family member. She had lost her father, her mother, her brothers burnt corpses entombed with her parents. The two people in that room were the last of her family, and she knew the young little she wolf would fight to keep her family with her.

Heavy footfalls came her way, and she sprang to hide behind a stone hall to see Arya storm out, followed by Robb. Margaery caught a flash of Arya's face, and it looked betrayed, heartbroken behind anger.

"Arya!" Robb called out after his youngest sister, as she tore off in a run away from him.

Margaery stepped from behind the wall when Robb disappeared around the corner, and she heard sniffling. She turned to see Sansa, her eyes welling with tears yet none had spilled down her sweet face. Margaery's heart broke at the sight of the poor girl and rushed to embrace her.

"Oh Sansa, are you alright? What did Robb say?" she asked, holding the young girl, the young girl that had seen too much, suffered too much.

"I shall be Lady of Winterfell in two weeks, when Robb goes south to wed." Sansa sniffled, still not tears escaped from her large blue eyes. She guided the young girl to her bed and sat down beside her.

"Darling Sansa, do you know why Robb must leave, has he told you?" she asked. Sansa shook her head and said "It is to save our family he said. But what does he mean by that?"

Margaery wrapped an arm around Sansa and said "He goes south to save you, sweet girl. The Targaryens gave him a choice, for either himself to go south to wed, or you to go south to Dorne to wed the youngest son of Martell. He knew you would never leave, and he would not force you to. So he chose himself."

Sansa's eyes widened and the tears fell, sparkling on her face as the hidden sun set somewhere in the blustery blizzard outside. Margaery held the young girl closer, the young girl who bore the weight and grief of a woman grown. She wouldn't let the Targaryens take whatever innocence remained, whatever was left of the young child she knew Sansa had been, before she became this sad woman. She wouldn't let the Targaryens touch her.

A thought, buried deep under doubt and uncertainty, made itself known, part of some ridiculous fantasy she had imagined for herself over the days of sewing and thinking and it was ridiculous now still, making her want to blush and bury it where none would hear it or see it, if such thing was possible. But as she rolled the thought through her mind as the thought turned to a plan, a desperate plan that she knew she could commit to, but the question was, would Robb.

Deep down, she knew he would, if it meant that it kept his sister safe from the Targaryens and he would remain in Winterfell with his family.

It had to work. He had to agree. It just had to work.

** Dun dun duh! Tada! Alright, so, for questions about Bran and Rickon, Bran is still beyond the Wall and presumed dead, and I don't know where Rickon went into hiding, but I am saying he is still there, though I have no valid or reasonable explanation why, so make something up in your heads. You're all pretty creative people, I assume. I don't know exactly who's reading this except for reviewers. But you can figure something out. If you think your suggestion is good, send it to me by review or PM and I'll see if I can wiggle it in there for now. But for all intents and purposes, Bran and Rickon are not in Winterfell and presumed dead.**


End file.
